Unmuted
by OwlCityTard
Summary: A series of song-based oneshots centered around various characters of Unwind. Will cover multiple genres. Written by OwlCityTard, a.k.a. me, and ResonatingLight666, better known to some as HollyHermione66. Rated for language in some chapters.
1. In the End

**Disclaimer:** We do not own Unwind or "In The End," by Neal Shusterman and Linkin Park respectively. 'Cuz... they... PWN. Yeah, that's what.

Also, we recommend listening to the music we were inspired by where we inserted the lyrics in the fanfic... Actually, we did try to post the link, but FF. Net kept deleting parts of it. D:

_Genre: Drama/Angst (each story is getting its own genres...)_

* * *

_**In the End, Linkin Park:**_**_ Connor and Roland_**

Risa's long, slender fingers slowly slide out from between his own. "Be quick, alright?"

He gives her a small nod in confirmation and regards the unusually somber Hayden. "I'm trusting you to keep things under control here."

"Sure, don't worry about it. Go and enjoy your time away from purgatory- I'll expect souvenirs." The barest hint of a smile reveals his teeth, finally free of the useless braces after his most recent expedition out of the Graveyard.

Connor returns the gesture and exchanges one final look with Risa. _I'll be back._ Her eyes stare pleadingly back at him, but he forces himself to turn away. His muffled footfalls raise clouds of sand in the arid desert as he purposefully strides toward the horizon.

**-x-**

The coat of white paint on the door is barely existent anymore, and Connor takes a step back from the antique shop entrance. A shudder ripples down Connor's spine as anxiety takes hold of him. How long has it been? A year and a half? Two? How old had she been, anyway? Seconds pass agonizingly as he ponders opening the door. Life would be so much simpler, never having to face them again. He wants to remain nameless, anonymous, Elvis Robert Mullard.

But, the easy way out has never been the one for Connor. Before he can generate even more doubt, he clumsily grips the rusting doorknob and twists. A harsh screech grates against his eardrums as the door opens, and the familiar jingle of bells greet him.

The darkness takes him by surprise, and he stupidly stands, motionless, blinking to adjust to the lack of light. Finally, he casts his gaze briefly around the mishmash of merchandise spread haphazardly before him, covered by a thin layer of dust. His heart sinks.

"Sonia?"

For a moment, the quiet unnervingly envelops his senses. He anxiously scans the area, the sick sensation in his gut crushing him with a sudden weight. Tentatively, he steps forward, away from the ancient door, swinging absentmindedly on its rusty hinges. Suddenly, slow but steady steps, accompanied by the harsh fall of a cane, grow louder and louder until finally coming to a halt in front of Connor. "Caps lock IMPATIENT, that's what you are. IMPATIENT!"

"Sonia!"

A smirk much like Hayden's comes across Sonia's face. "You didn't actually think that I'd die with your generation in charge, now did you?" Her cane whips through the air and smacks Connor neatly on the shins.

Connor's grin matches Sonia's. "I missed you."

"Getting sentimental in your old age, hm?"

Witty banter is not one of Connor's strong points. He gives a good-natured grunt and allows a comfortable silence to fall upon them.

His eyes drift along the walls of the room. He spots familiar things, such as the fruit bowl painting and the antique plasma television. Not much has changed, although the ceiling droops a little lower and the extra layers of dust add an air of authenticity to the shop. His smile fades as his gaze rests upon the trunk, still lying on the faded Persian carpet. "How's correspondence?"

"Right to the point." The gentle crinkles of amusement around Sonia's eyes disappear as she waddles over to the rug. "You beouf enough now?"

Connor visibly brightens. "You still have my letter? Thank God, I was afraid that you pushed the date forward a year because of the law. Can I have it?"

She doesn't respond, instead opting to find a comfortable position atop the old trunk.

The silence speaks for her, and Connor exhales sharply, overwhelmed by a bewildering mixture of disappointment and relief.

Abruptly- "I've still got Risa's, if she wants it. And the thieving ox's too, as insubstantial as it is. Judging from his arm that you've got there though, he's been unwound." Her eyes, still burning with a fiery light, pierce him.

Shame flows from his emotionally scarred tissue, crashing down on his skull with renewed fury, only temporarily stemmed by the scabs of time. He casts his brown eyes downwards and shuffles his feet awkwardly. "I… I didn't have a choice. I wasn't even conscious when they gave me the operation. I swear, I would have refused it like Risa. And the Admiral."

"Funny how the man whose integrity you doubted turned out to be purer than your own."

"I…but I really... I-" His words die in his throat with a frustrated growl, and his hands curl anxiously as the silence takes on a colder edge. Finally, with a barely stifled sigh, he tilts his head downward and resigns himself to her harsh accusations.

He feels her mercilessly scrutinizing him, searching, seeing straight to his soul. Moments pass, the uncomfortable feeling of nakedness causing Connor to restlessly shift his weight from one foot to the other.

Eventually, it seems she is satisfied, although with what, Connor is unsure. Her scowl softens as she makes another halfhearted swipe at the general direction of his legs from across the room. The two face each other wordlessly, but Connor drops her gaze. Suddenly, Sonia produces an ancient mp3 player from behind the chest. She beckons him forward, mp3 and earphones in her other outstretched palm.

Hesitantly, he shuffles forward and takes it, weighing it in his hand. "What's this for?"

Sonia whacks him with the cane once more, grinning impishly, almost as if the previous exchange had never happened. "What did I tell you? Don't be so impatient! Figure it out later," she commands. She fixes him once more with a glare, although with a hint of affection, before clearing her throat and sliding off her perch.

"So, I heard you and Risa..."

**-x-**

Connor's feet drag, catching gravel in the threads hanging from the hem of his grimy jeans. His hands, roughly shoved into pockets, feel the cool metal of the mp3 player. He stops, surveying the landscape, and kicks a random pebble distractedly as his mind wandered. Sonia asked about everything and everyone- not just the motley crew that she had once housed, but the workings of Graveyard and more. In return, she reassures him about the fate of the baby, who Hannah renamed Deliah, still Didi for short. All in all a pleasant conversation, but some tiny part of him still wishes he could have left the antique shop with the perverse anticipation of seeing his family once more weighing on him.

Would they have taken him back?

He considers it for a brief moment before shaking his head to clear the absurd notion from his brain. Even if they had offered, he knows he couldn't have and wouldn't have accepted. Risa, Hayden, and so many others were awaiting his return to the Graveyard, his new home.

He sighs again, more deeply. Finally, he pulls out the mp3 player, trying to desert his heavy thoughts. The bulky headphones settle uncomfortably over his ears as he tries to figure out how to play music. Light filters through the dusty screen, and Connor finds his cursor scrolling up and down the 25 Most Played playlist.

"In the End, by Linkin Park," Connor notes. Considering how digital music had completely been revolutionized since the advent of the mp3 player to the point where newer songs weren't even created in the mp3 format, Connor doubts that he knows this song. All the same, he fumbles with the slippery control wheel for a few seconds before finally getting it to play.

A keyboard and set of drums fill the silence before two voices join in the melody.

"_(It starts with)… One thing, I don't know why- it doesn't even matter how hard you try. Keep that in mind, I designed this rhyme to explain in due time. All I know… Time is a valuable thing. Watch it fly by as the pendulum swings. Watch it count down to the end of the day. The clock ticks life away- it's so unreal. Didn't look out below. Watch the time go right out the window, trying to hold on but didn't even know. Wasted it all just to watch you go. I kept everything inside and even though I tried, it all fell apart. What it meant to me will eventually be a memory of a time when I tried so hard, and got so far. But in the end, it doesn't even matter. I had to fall, to lose it all. But in the end, it doesn't even matter._

_One thing, I don't know why- it doesn't even matter how hard you try. Keep that in mind, I designed this rhyme to remind myself how I tried so hard._

_In spite of the way you were mocking me, acting like I was part of your property, remembering all the times you fought with me. I'm surprised it got so (far). Things aren't the way they were before. You wouldn't even recognize me anymore. Not that you knew me back then, but it all comes back to me, in the end. You kept everything inside and even though I tried, it all fell apart. What it meant to me will eventually be a memory of a time when I tried so hard, and got so far… But in the end, it doesn't even matter. I had to fall, to lose it all. But in the end, it doesn't even matter._

_I've put my trust in you. Pushed as far as I can go. For all this, there's only one thing you should know- I've put my trust in you, pushed as far as I can go. For all this, there's only one thing you should know- I tried so hard, and got so far. But in the end, it doesn't even matter. I had to fall, to lose it all._

_But in the end, it doesn't even matter."_

Cymbals crash into Connor's eardrums as the piano slowly fades away. He blinks, finally noticing the slight twitch in his right thumb. Sonia's words run through his mind.

"…the thieving ox's…"

His knees buckle slightly as he stares at the mp3 with a renewed interest, though tinged with horror. He presses play again.

"…_I've put my trust in you, pushed as far as I can go. For all this, there's only one thing you should know- I tried so hard, and got so far. But in the end, it doesn't even matter. I had to fall, to lose it all._

_But in the end, it doesn't even matter._"

His eyes are blank, but inside, his mind is racing. He remembers those days in Sonia's basement, stuck with Risa, Roland, Mai, and Hayden, and the night of sharing stories. To be honest, he hadn't paid much attention, and could only recall the vaguest of details of Roland's. Something… Something like he had a stepmother… Or was it a stepfather? Guilt sweeps over him as he desperately tries to cling onto those thinning strands of memories.

One word, one word is all he is able to grasp from those strands in the haze of his brain.

_Betrayal. _

From it, he pieces bits together. Roland… he… he had been protecting a loved one. His mother, from someone. Roland loved her, thought she would be grateful. But no- he was sent to be unwound. Forgotten.

The tiger shark's empty stare bores into his skull. Sharks are known to prefer solitude, as one of the most well-designed of Mother Nature's creatures, perfect hunters. Yet, it was this solitude, this isolation that Roland suffered from. It was this, brought on by his own mother, that caused him to drown in the deep dark seas.

His only chance for survival was to discard his pitiful humanity that had never served him well, and become a beast.

Connor watches as his right hand curls into fist against his will. Ariana's parents float in front of his mind's eye- "animal," they mouth. While their faces have long since grown fuzzy, their eyes remain sharp with hatred and fear. Perhaps he and Roland had both once been captivated by their inner monsters, swimming in the same murky waters.

He looks down at the tattoo again, expecting a familiar wave of nausea and contempt to wash over him. However, a different emotion stands in its place. Connor can't quite name it. It is not respect, nor is it a grudging acceptance.

_But once, we were kin…_

* * *

**Author's Note-**

...For those who may have read Unwind a while back, just wanted to mention that the mp3 player is actually from the book- Roland did steal one from Sonia, earning the nickname "thieving ox" from her. Also, we know that Sonia wouldn't technically know about Connor and his initial distrust of the Admiral, but hey, POETIC LICENSE. HA HA.

Decided that Unwind could really use more fanfics... Review please?


	2. This is the Future

**Disclaimer:** We do not own Unwind or "This is the Future," by Neal Shusterman and Owl City respectively.

_Genre: Romance with the tiniest traces of Hurt/Comfort  
_

* * *

_**This is the Future: Connor and Risa**_

The dreamy twinkle of notes is carried across the silent horizon by a gently cooling breeze, an uncommon phenomenon in the Arizona desert.

Connor looks up from his papers at his desk. The pale yellow moon peeks through a thin veil of stars, each sparkling in time to the rhythm of the notes. The natural light, streaming in through the window, illuminates his work with a soft glow that supplements the lamp's radiance. A sigh, half irritated and half amused, escapes him as pushes the chair back.

Only Risa would be playing at such a late hour. He smiles wanly and stretches backwards, hearing satisfying cracks run down his spine. He forces himself out of his drowsy stupor and finally manages to summon the willpower to get up and stroll out of his battered cargo plane, a far cry from the Admiral's Air Force One.

His dark blue shirt flutters in the wind as he weaves through the Graveyard's assortment of sand-crusted airplanes, getting closer and closer to the source of the music. Finally, he walks up the steps leading to the raised platform, the keyboard illuminating the way with its light-up keys.

Soft brown curls graze the curve of Risa's cheek. Her eyes are shut in a strange mixture of concentration and relaxation as her body, limited as it is, acts as a medium for the whimsical melody, swaying back and forth with the electronic tone of the keyboard. Her lips are pressed together as she hums to the words surely flitting across the darkness behind her eyelids.

Smiling, Connor makes an effort to pad as silently as possible over to her. The cold metal, a harsh reminder of her wheelchair, burns his left hand as his right rests on her shoulder. She doesn't make a sound, but Connor can tell she noticed his presence by the subtle flutter of her eyelashes. He listens silently. The song has a distinctly whimsical feel, each note laced with a shimmering quality. She leans into the keyboard, caressing the last few chords with a tenderness typically reserved for Connor.

Finally, she straightens up in her wheelchair and swivels to face him. Her luminous brown eyes face him, and the corners of her lips tug into the smile she was named for.

He licks his dry lips and clears his throat. "So, why are you up so late tonight? Everyone else is already in bed."

"Just feeling a little restless." Risa's hands, elegant from years of classical piano training, lift awkwardly in a gesture of helplessness. Her eyes follow him, trying to gauge his motives for coming after her tonight. "Why are you here?"

"I think I'm allowed to investigate who's causing all the ruckus."

Her eyebrows rise in mock anger. "Are you insulting my playing? That's low, Connor, even for you."

He laughs, full yet quiet. Leaning over, he manages to give her a quick peck on the cheek. "Anything bothering you?" His warm breath tickles the inner folds of her ear, eliciting a rare giggle from Risa.

"I'm fine. Frankly, I'm more worried about you." The words have barely left her mouth when Connor's face abruptly darkens, shadows suddenly aging his face a decade.

He shrugs wearily, forcing a chuckle. "Nothing new."

Risa frowns and places a comforting yet firm hand on his. "You can tell me anything. You know that."

Connor's mouth opens. "I-" Another weak chuckle, and he tries again. "No, I know. Really, I'm fine."

His expression remains unreadable as she searches him, concerned. When did his face become so drained? "Risa, don't worry. It's late, and we should really be getting to bed."

He turns away, his worn sneakers making a dull thump as he trudges across the platform. Risa grits her teeth in frustration as she watches his receding back. Once upon a time, she would have chased after him and pulled him into a vicious headlock. Those days at the Ohio State Ward 23 guaranteed that. But now, the numbness of her entire lower body dragged her down, music her only escape.

"Connor! Get back here!"

She feels utterly helpless as he looks back at her, angrily perched at the top of the ramp leading up to the platform. A sad, sorry excuse for a smile crosses his face as he shakes his head, and continues to walk away.

"Connor! You idiot, why are you- ergh, Connor!"

This time, he doesn't even pause.

**-x-**

Hah. As if it's even possible to fall asleep nowadays. Already, he finds himself in front of the plane that serves as his office. Sometimes, when his mind wanders, he wonders how someone as old as the Admiral had managed to run this place without cracking under the pressure, the demands. He can only sigh as he plods up the stairs, already imagining himself flipping halfheartedly through the stacks of papers, piles of bills, job offers, and profiles of the residents of the Graveyard crushing him and his rickety desk.

He rubs his forehead, futilely trying to ward off an inevitable headache, and begins to immerse himself back into his work.

He's not sure just how long he spends working, but at some point, he becomes aware of a familiar melody breaking through the dreary drone of silence in his ears. The mood is hopeful, and eerily so as the moon embarks on its journey back down to the edge of the horizon.

A voice, haunting in its delicacy and beauty, reaches him.

"_Wake up, on your own. And look around you, 'cuz you're not alone__. Release your high hopes, and they'll survive__. 'Cuz this is the future and you are alive. Dive in and swim away__, from your loneliness and miserable days._"

"_And when you wake up, on your own__. Look around you, 'cuz you're not alone.__ Let your hopes go, and they'll survive__. 'Cuz this is the future, and you are alive._"

"_…You're headed home._"

"Risa?"

Connor peers out through the window of his plane. A few notes still linger in the air. He waits, carefully, adjusting himself into a more comfortable position. His patience is rewarded as he finally spots a black dot inch across the barren terrain.

He walks out onto the very top ramp, normally crowded with visitors during the day, leading up to the entrance of the battered shell of a plane. Soon enough, Risa nears the plane.

"Hey, Risa," he calls.

She looks up from her feet warily. "What?"

Sheepishly, he scratches his head, ruffling his already messy hair. "Look, I'm sorry about that... before. Really though, nothing to worry about. It's just the usual 'stress' and stuff- these kids all have these expectations which we're not prepared to meet right now."

"Yeah, the Akron AWOL wants to burn down all the Chop Shops across the nation," she responds with a grin. "You can take a break once in a while, you know. I'm not useless, and neither's Hayden. He's hopefully good for something other than eating our Spam."

He smiles. Normal conversation, childish in its content, is a welcome luxury.

The sun is already starting to conquer the darkness, and the cool wind is quickly growing heavy with the familiar humidity of the day. Connor glances back and Risa, and struggles to repress a yawn, originally held back by sheer will and caffeine.

"Yeah... Guess you're right, like usual. I'll get to bed now."

Risa nods approvingly, before deciding to maneuver herself towards the plane as well. "Hayden can live for a day without us Akron AWOLs stealing all the limelight."

* * *

**Author's Note-**

Geez, Connor, you and your stupid martyr complex... D:**  
**

...OWL CITY MAKES US (actually, only OwlCityTard, not really ResonatingLight666- she's too dark and deep for me... RAWR) HAPPY ON THE INSIDE. AND OUTSIDE. Actually, so do reviews. So, uh, please review. Heh. Hope Connor and Risa weren't OOC. This is set when they're slightly older, as Connor's about 19 or 20... Also, forgive the lazy authors and correct us if we're wrong about their hair colors... Heh.

Thanks for reading. :)


	3. I Don't Wanna' be in Love

**Disclaimer:** We do not own Unwind or "I Don't Wanna' be in Love (Dance Floor Anthem)," by Neal Shusterman and Good Charlotte respectively.

_Genre: Humor  
_

(also, some uncensored cursing, but nothing worse than sh*t)_  
_

* * *

_**I Don't Wanna' be in Love (Dance Floor Anthem), Good Charlotte:**_**_ Diego and Hayden_**

It's pretty late and Diego, in his blue-striped pajama pants and cotton t-shirt, has his eyes squeezed shut as he screams lyrics at the top of his lungs (reminding me exactly why this kid should keep his vow of silence), while I've just plugged my ears and am trying to assist him in an equally tone deaf manner.

Kinky, right?

...No (D:)? Pfft, fine, no chocolate for you.

Well, I'll take the liberty of at least trying to explain this. Really, it all goes back to the fact that I was appointed second-in-command by Connor and Risa (along with Diego, but he doesn't talk nearly enough for anyone to even know he exists). Apparently, they were convinced that this sudden change in status would actually help me reign in kids.

But no. Who were they kidding? These were, and are, Unwinds. Admittedly, you've got a few that aren't _really_ that bad or were sent to harvest camps for reasons other than misbehavior, like me, but getting to the Graveyard itself is a testament to the fact that the people here are reasonably tough. I'm no Akron AWOL, and a new title wasn't going to change that. But, they still insisted that I had to reinforce consequences for breaking the Ten Demandments, which Connor wanted to keep in honor of the Admiral. Number Nine's shaky, as Diego and I turned 18 a few of years back. But Demandment Eight's long gone, _way_ beyond saving. I mean, who's gonna' follow a rule that Connor and Risa break on a regular basis?

There are apparent privileges that come with this too. I'm allowed to scare the shit out of the noobs (cannibalistic Morlocks, FTW), leave the Graveyard on "missions" whenever I want (restocking on CHOCOLATE. SQUEE), yadda yadda, and let the awesomeness of Connor and Risa seep into my soul while I sleep. Subliminal messaging, people.

Okay, so it was more like "Oh, and by the way, we've got two extra rooms, so you and Diego can crash there," but really; same thing. It was a little awkward when they first offered (my gaydar beeped a bit), but I pretty much just thought "Thank god I don't have to room with Emby" and said yeah.

I forgot about... uh, I mean, but... like, what about her wheelchair?

**-x-**

So, yeah, it started as an ordinary enough day. Diego and I were just sorting through more job stuff for the Unwinds if they wanted. The same perverted old men who wanted 16 to 18 year old ̶p̶e̶r̶s̶o̶n̶a̶l̶ ̶m̶a̶i̶d̶s̶ girls to clean their houses, the same freaks who need teenagers to chop down wood in remote forests (it's 2100, people), and more, along with a couple of schedules we needed to sort out for visitors and new shipments of people too.

All in all, a pretty crappy way to spend a day, especially considering that Diego and I are, I dunno', about 20 now. Geez, we're supposed to be having the time of our lives, love and the general pursuit of happiness (and getting screwed over because we can't get jobs, but no one cares about that). But damn it, I'll probably swear off any kind of romantic-eloping-whatsit thanks to Connor and Risa.

By 9 o'clock the two of us had pretty much sorted out the Monday and Tuesday's worth of papers (it's Wednesday) in an incredibly rare fit of productivity. Be proud. So, thanks to our efforts, we could decide to go to sleep, do more work, or screw around outside, where the sun had finally begun to ease up.

We chose sleep.

Don't look at me like that (Diego and I are good little boys). It's not as if it's actually possible to do anything, even if I had gone outside, especially when you're someone who's extremely heat intolerant, even after three years of living in Arizona (it's because I'm at a genetic disadvantage from my Caucasian-ness, I SWEAR). Therefore, I managed to persuade Diego to leave the well-ventilated airplane for the cargo plane that we sleep in.

It wasn't until we had gotten there that I realized that no self-respecting human being turns in at 9. So we sat in Diego's bedroom, and I failed miserably at holding conversation with Diego. Eventually, I tried to entertain myself in other ways. Yeah; cards, some ancient board games, chopsticks, "GUESS WHAT LETTER I'M WRITING ON YOUR BACK, HURP DERP," and other activities of increasing levels of pathetic-ness. I ultimately failed at that too, since even the most basic games like Slapjack require some sort of communication. So, we only burned about a half an hour before I gave up trying to play "Guess the Letter" (although I did keep winning BS).

I cleaned up our mess before preparing to head out the door, through the small common room, and to my own private bed. However, I'd barely taken five steps when I heard Risa and Connor's voices.

That in itself was already a surprise, since both had taken to long hours working their offices in the next plane over to the left. But, I mean, not a huge deal. But then, I realized they left the door open just a crack, which allowed their voices and a bit of light to drift out.

Like hell I was going to miss an opportunity like that. Who knew what kind of super top-secret discussions went on there? Faithfully, I went and retrieved Diego, who just changed into his pajamas (the decidedly not kinky periwinkle and Crayola-pure-snow-ivory-cream-white ones) before ninja shadow-stalking to the door.

"Hey, Connor, sorry for bothering you."

_Holy shit. It's her I-love-you-and-we're-in-a-kinda'-private-place-so-take-me voice._ My grin instantaneously dropped. I clutched Diego's shoulder and practically drew blood in an attempt to keep myself from bolting on the spot.

_Oh god oh god oh god, calm down, okay, calm down, Hayden. Don't worry, you, you, you, ARGH, you can still escape._ Panicked, I scanned the area. The thick and scruffy beige carpet would muffle my hasty retreat well enough-

"No worries, I'm free tonight."

_OH. MY. GOD. SHUT UP, CONNOR. _I tried my best not to imagine them sitting _way_ too close together, leaning in for- _SHIT, SCREW YOU BOTH._

Um, yeah. By now, Diego was giving me a look of combined pain, discomfort, and concern. Pain because I forgot to cut my nails which were still embedded in his flesh (haha, oops). Discomfort because the fact that Connor and Risa, _Connor and Risa_, were about to make out or worse practically in front of us (too much even for his horribly romantic soul- go see his theories on Unwinding and the soul and other mushy crap). Concern because I probably looked like a freakin' maniac, muttering under my breath and glaring at the door.

Damn it.

How in the world could I subtly get Connor and Risa to stop their completely unnecessary display of PDA?

**-x-**

Which, rather unfortunately, leads me back to where we started. Because, well, nothing is more subtle than screaming songs about-

"_Everybody put up your hands, say I don't wanna' be in love, I don't wanna' be in love!_"

Uh, yeah, mildly regretting recruiting Diego right now. I really hope the kid doesn't have any aspirations in the music industry, because if he does... Geez. His level of excitement is also alarming, to say the least.

"_Feel the beat now if you've got nothing left, say I don't wanna' be in love, I don't wanna' be in love!_"

I'm never going to try to force him to speak again.

"_Back it up now, you've got a reason to live, __say I don't wanna' be in love, I don't wanna' be in love! Feeling good now, don't be afraid to get down, say I don't wanna' be in love, I don't wanna' be in love!_ LALALALALA and what-comes-next-uhhhh _He was always giving her attention, working hard to find the things she mentioned. He was dedicated!_"

Please. Please, please, please, PLEASE come out and end my misery already. C'mon Connor, Risa's super-dark-and-deeply-attractive-brown-orbs-indicating-extreme-intelligence-and-beauty can't be that _that_ interesting..!

"_But most suckers hate it! That girl was fine, but she didn't appreciate him! She calls him up-_"

"Jesus Christ, what are you guys friggin' doing?"

Diego trails off weakly as he shrinks from Connor's icy glare. I, on the other hand, genuinely have to bite my tongue to keep myself from screaming "HELL TO THE YEAH, IT WORKED!" And ow, I think my inner cochlear hairs and that scientific stuff all shriveled away thanks to the Señor No Quiero Estar Enamorado.

Connor steps into the common room, menacingly brandishing a wrench. Risa follows and comes to a stop slightly behind him (WOAH, TOTAL SIGN OF SEXISM).

"Uh, giving a friendly reminder to our neighbors of Demandment Number Eight?"

He gives us a confused glance. "What?"

Risa, at least, has the dignity to blush at what we've "accidentally" witnessed.

"Give it up already. You know what I'm talking about."

"We were just-"

"I think you're misunderstanding, Hayden." Risa interrupts Connor and maneuvers herself forward (IT'S A DEEP SYMBOL METAPHOR THING FOR THE PROGRESSION OF CIVIL RIGHTS OF WOMEN IN AMERICA, WHICH HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH THIS FIC). "Connor was just fixing up my wheelchair. The left wheel was messed up, and I think some of the sand got stuck in some gears or something."

_Oh._ I feel that awkward sensation beginning, when you know something completely retarded about to come out of your mouth but you can't do anything to stop it.

Thankfully, Connor beats me to it. "Wait, I don't get it. What does the Eighth Demandment have to do with anything?"

Epic facepalm, anyone?

I snatch the opportunity push the spotlight off of me. "You're kidding, right? 'Hormones will not rule my desert.' Man, Admiral's gonna' be so pissed when he hears about you forgetting this."

Even then, it takes a couple of moments before it clicks for Connor. Once it does though, his face instantaneously flares a red reminiscent of the Arizona sun, and I can practically see steam rising from his head.

"I-I-what? We wouldn't...! I don't understand how you- why? It's not like we... You, Risa? I...?"

I would laugh, but then I realize he's still holding his wrench (and someone needs to survive to get Diego singing lessons).

* * *

** Author's Note-**

We're sorry for throwing this crap at you. But it's crap with Hayden, so EVERYTHING IS BETTER. Oh, and a random fact- we actually have an ongoing joke concerning Hayden and those "Choose 10 characters...7 and 6 meet at..." stuff and all the horrible slash pairings, and now he's asexual. It only makes him more awesome anyway.

We also understand that some slang would probably be outdated by then, but we kept it in hopes that readers would find it less awkward than us making up slang. Also, we understand that we didn't use the full lyrics of "I Don't Wanna be in Love (Dance Floor Anthem)," but we felt that it was probably more realistic for Diego to just scream out the chorus and a few other bits here and there.

AJGHFSIUS AND THE VERB TENSE HERE IS SO SCREWY- sorry for the inconsistencies... We've gone through this a gajillion times, but STILL aren't satisfied with that. Any edits or stuff would be much appreciated.

So, review please! :)**  
**


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